


Legendary

by crystalblinks (orphan_account)



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Break Up, Heavy Angst, M/M, Makeup, Minor James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/crystalblinks
Summary: It had all the main elements of a legendary T’Challa/Bucky fight





	

**Author's Note:**

> This started with me thinking about Doctor Sam and then me wishing for more T'Chucky and here we are

Living in a house with another couple was complicated. Living in a house with four doctors was tumultuous. Living in a house with four people who work together and sleep together was chaos. The house, which we all pooled our money together to buy was a four bedroom victorian style house that belonged to an old woman named Peggy who knew Steve from when he was a kid. She’d given us a great deal and in our juvenile excitement we all thought it would be a great ideal. We all carpooled to and from the hospital together, split all the expenses and generally enjoyed each other’s company. It can get hard dealing with everyone’s quirks, but it tends to be the right amount of chaos and comradery. 

But some days it was the worst idea that has ever existed, an idea in which I blame Bucky for because this was his fault anyway. He came home a few nights ago smelling like every bar and bimbo in the state and T’Challa, who had expected him home on time had wanted to surprise him with a nice dinner together was furious. I ended up eating with T’Challa and was there when Bucky stumbled home yelling and crying about how much fun it was to go out for once and how he never went out with T’Challa.

It was a fight waiting to happen. It had all the main elements of a legendary T’Challa/Bucky fight. Alcohol: T’Challa hated the stuff, didn’t go to bars because he had bad experiences with booze, and Bucky knew this, knew the dirty details better than anyone in the house. Expectation: T’Challa had expected Bucky home, Bucky had probably expected to see the warm and accommodating version of his boyfriend. Complaining: The last legendary fight happened two months ago when Bucky had expected to take T’Challa out for their anniversary, had a trip planned and everything, and then T’Challa came home late, caused them to miss their flight and then Bucky got drunk in the airport waiting area and decided to complain about how is neurosurgeon boyfriend thought his job was more important than him. Usually the fights end after a week of them staying in separate rooms, avoiding each other at work and then spending four hours sparring as an apology. Usually when me and Steve fight we sit down and talk it out, but then again we’re a different kind of couple. 

*

Day one, the first day of avoidance.  T’Challa drove and Bucky sat in the back seat next to an extremely uncomfortable Steve. We’d been dealing with the couple’s antics for five years, but Steve always looked anxious whenever they fight. Usually I just use it as an opportunity to play Marvin Gaye on the drive since Bucky’s not in the passenger seat switching between Freddie Mercury and Beyonce. But Steve just sits in the back suffering with an exhausted look on his face.

When we parked Bucky rushed out of the car, on his way to his first surgery of the day, an elective breast reduction that he was complaining about even before he got copious amounts of alcohol in him. Steve gave me a chaste kiss and then hurried off to rounds, something that he seemed to enjoy more than any other doctor in the hospital. After they rushed off I walked leisurely with T’Challa to his office. As the head of neurosurgery he had a fancy office on the fourth floor of the hospital and when I didn’t have a baby to deliver or appointments to attend first thing in the morning I’d walk with him. 

The walk was mostly silent until T’Challa looked over at me with stormy eyes and began speaking. “There are reasons I don’t go out like the rest of you do and James knows why, yet he continues to do this like he doesn’t even care anymore...” T’Challa trailed off, looking at his hands always steady, always capable. 

“Do you ever tell him about how you feel?”

“After the sparring I try to, but everything I say just seems to roll off his back and it’s just easier to keep on going then to continue to fight.”

“It doesn’t seem easier.”

T’Challa looked at me sadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “It’s not, but I love him. I love him so much, but it’s like he can’t comprehend how much this hurts me, it’s as if my discomfort and pain  is just childish unease to him.” 

“If you want, I can pull out my boy scout skills and tie him down so you guys can talk.”

He flashed me an amused, albeit grateful smile. “Thank you for your offer Sam, but I won’t require your knot tying services at the moment.” He disappeared into his office for the rest of the day, only emerging for lunch. It wasn’t unusual for T’Challa to eat with Rhodey and Tony. It happened at least once a week, so he could have some time outside of our little group of four. He had a place to go when he didn’t want to be around one of us, and I knew that the next week would be filled with T’Challa angrily stabbing whatever masterpiece he made for lunch and Rhodey flashing me concerned looks over his salad. 

Bucky just looked incredibly sad, moping over mystery meat since T’Challa didn’t make him anything, glaring at the homemade lasagna that sat in front of me and Steve. He looked up at me with puppy dog eyes, attempting to look interested. “Aren’t you birthing the...the...Gordon baby today?”

“I’m doing a check up on the Gonzales baby today.” Bucky sighed. “Don’t act like you give a shit about my job, ask what you want to ask.”

“How is he?”

“He’s upset, you’ve pulled this shit over and over again and then on top of that you don’t listen to him.”

“I listen to him.”

“Then you should know why he’s pissed off and stabbing that lasagna like it’s Julius Caesar.”  Bucky rolled his eyes at my reference and growled into his plate.

“Just go and apologize to him.” Steve sighed, looking at Bucky with disappointed eyes. 

“That's not how we work.”

“It doesn’t seem like it’s working.” Steve said, taking a bite of his pasta.

“Maybe you should try a different method since your current one seems like it’s more trouble than it’s worth.” 

Bucky scoffed at my words and stood up from the table, his face bright red with anger. Everyone around us was looking at the display, except for T’Challa who was picking at his food, but judging by the way he leaned towards us, he was still listening. “You know what? I’m done with all your bullshit advice. This is my life, my business, my relationship. Why don’t you two just fuck off?” He walked away in a huff, drawing the attention of the rest of the hospital staff, including a rather gossipy nurse named Scott who would probably have cheating rumors circulating through the hospital in five to six business days. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rhodey trying to comfort T’Challa, and his efforts being rebuffed with quiet snorts and angry bites. Tony, ever the genius decided to throw little bits of bread at the boarding surgeon until T’Challa held up a fork to him, and with a threatening voice said “I can cut into your brain and rearrange so much matter that you’d spend the rest of your days thinking you were a cantaloupe.” Stark backed down fairly quickly.

*

Day two saw T’Challa sleeping in the guest room. He left the hospidal early and was wholed up in the spare bedroom, only opening the door when I offered him food and watched a Tyler Perry movie with him so we could point out all the cliches together and laugh whenever Madea was on screen. That morning he took an uber to the hospital which left Steve to drive the car, which had us all thirty minutes late for our appointments because Steve, as much as I love him, drives like a ninety year old man. The day was vacant of any drama, but I did have to hear from a concerned Clint, asking me whether or not the rumors that he heard at he heard at the nurses station were true, that Bucky knocked up one of his patients and was trying to get T’Challa to co-parent the baby. I told him it wasn’t, that it was just a domestic spat and wondered if I’d underestimated Scott’s gossiping powers. 

It continued on like that for four more days, with T’Challa avoiding his boyfriend and Bucky stalking around the hospital like an teenager who was told he couldn’t go to a party. Every night, Steve would worry about the other couple in the house, and as much as I wanted to tell him they’d work it out, it seemed like T’Challa was at the breaking point. 

*

Day six was trouble. It was everyone’s day off, one that was typically scheduled so everyone could have breakfast together and then go their separate ways. It had started out like every other day off. T’Challa had cooked breakfast, and crazy enough they’d managed to be civil enough to share a quick meal together without fighting. After breakfast T’Challa had disappeared into his bedroom and emerged in tight black jeans and a grey button down. 

I whistled at T’Challa causing him to blush slightly. “Where are you headed?”

“I’m going to James and Tony’s country club, then maybe out dancing with them.” He spoke casually, slipping his phone into his back pocket. 

“That sounds fun.” Steve replied, smiling brightly at him. 

“You hate dancing.” Bucky spoke in low tones, still loud enough to catch T’Challa’s attention.

“No, I hate bars. I actually enjoy dancing.”

“You’re not going to find somewhere to dance that doesn’t have a bar in it.” He snorted and waved a dismissive hand.

“Actually James, Tony found a place not even a mile from here that’s just a dance floor, no bar. It’s crazy what a quick search will turn up.”

“Really? Tony Stark found a place that doesn’t serve alcohol, that guy drinks like a fucking fish.” 

“Well he decided to take a night off.”

“Oh yeah, you probably just forbid him from touching the stuff, just like you do to me.”

“I have not tried to change you James.” T’Challa crossed his arms over his chest, but quickly uncrossed them. I could see the anger simmering inside of him, I could also see him trying to keep it in check. 

“Like hell you haven’t, it’s like you're constantly pressuring me to never drink.”

“Have I ever told you not to drink? No. I told you that it makes me uncomfortable, that I have a bad history with alcohol, but I have never forced your hand.” 

“Getting knocked around by a drunk isn’t really a bad history, babe.” 

T’Challa grew silent, his face flickering with emotions like  anger, hate, disgust and maybe even love before he turned away from Bucky and walked out he door. The room was filled with a tense silence. Bucky was still fuming, messing with his prosthetic, trying not to make eye contact with anyone else and Steve was shaking his head, looking like a disappointed father. I just sat there, dumbfounded wondering what drove him to that point, to exploit the man he’d written love songs about. It had me wondering why they’d tear themselves apart with sharpened claws and silver fists. No one else spoke that day, choosing to suffer in the tense silences of that morning, not that there was much left to say.

*

Days seven through ten found T’Challa using up his vacation days and Bucky angrily performing boob jobs and other elective surgeries that plastic surgeons weather through on a daily. Those days found Steve distraught and Scott’s gossip mill turning. Those days saw Rhodey texting me every few hours with updates on T’Challa, saying that he was staying in their spare bedroom and that he was doing alright for someone “who just got their heart stomped on.” 

But day eleven saw the start of resolution. It had started with a kidnapping. Bucky pushing me into the car and playing country music until I told him where T’Challa was. He drove me to Tony and Rhodey’s house/mansion and banged on the door yelling for T’Challa until he opened the door with bleary eyes. “I don’t want to see you James. Please respect that.” Bucky shook his head and pushed his way inside, muttering something about rom coms and never getting advice from nurses. 

“I’m sorry.” He said after a long moment of T’Challa staring at him with gaunt eyes. “And I love you Challa, and I want to fix this. I even brought Sam to mediate because I want to talk and yell and fight until we fix us.”

“Somethings are too broken to be fixed, and I don’t know how to fix us.”

“You shouldn’t have to do the fixing if you’re not the one who did the breaking.” Both of them looked fucking miserable, staring at each other longingly, almost as if a look sew up a cut as deep as the one Bucky had given T’Challa.

“Why?” T’Challa choked out, distraught “Why do you want to fix this? Why do you only care when it’s hurting you? What about when it was hurting me, just me? Why didn’t you care then?”

“I didn’t know I was hurting you.”

“I told you why every time. I told you about Klaw, about everything he did to me. I showed you every scar and every wound but you didn’t care, you didn’t listen James! Why didn’t you fucking listen?” T’Challa was screaming, waving his hands in a wild display. 

“I’m sorry baby, there’s no excuse for what I’ve done, but I’ll do better, I’ll listen and take you into consideration.” Bucky was begging, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. 

“I think it might be too late.”

“Please! Please, please Challa all I want is just a chance to prove to you that I can be better, that I can be better for you.” 

“Give me time. Let me think about it.” 

“Challa.”

“I said give me time James!” Bucky nodded solemnly and sulked out of the mansion, his boots clicking harshly against the marble floors.  

*

Day twelve saw a mass sleepover at Tony and Rhodey’s with me T’Challa and the happy couple all snuggled onto their massive couch watching one Tyler Perry’s more serious movies Why Did I Get Married? T’Challa and Rhodey spent the entire night mouthing the words of the movie to each other and sending Tony on popcorn runs because he was lost from the very beginning. 

“Janet Jackson was right Chal, you should make one of those lists.” Tony said taking a sip of his coke. “Pros and cons and all that shit.”

“That stuff only works in the movies.” T’Challa muttered stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. 

“I did one after Tony proposed.” Rhodey spoke not meeting his husband’s eyes.

“Really now? Was one of the pros sex?”

“One of the cons was ego.”

Tony sighed loudly and collapsed onto the couch, acting as if he’d been wounded deeply.

“The point is that it works Challa, it allows you to make a good, clear decision.” 

T’Challa just nodded and changed the movie to something a little bit lighter. Before I left the house I saw T’Challa disappear into his room armed with a pad of paper and pen. 

*

Day thirteen consisted of a random text from T’Challa asking if Bucky’s hair was a pro or a con, but day fourteen saw him coming to the house armed with a tired smile, offset by the determined look in his eye. “Is James home?” Nodding I lead him to the kitchen where Bucky had been brooding. T’Challa sat down at the table and I moved into the hallway. Steve stumbled down the stairs and I hushed him, motioning toward the kitchen. He ducked his head in only to see the two men too lost in each other to notice his appearance. 

“I’ve come to a conclusion, that you may not like, but if we want to continue it is something that needs to take place. You get a trial period, three months. I will be staying with Tony and Rhodey and we can have one date a week, if I decide that I don’t want to continue our relationship after that then it’s over. There will be no banging on doors or teary eyed apologies. Am I clear?”

Bucky muttered something in understanding. 

“We really shouldn’t be eavesdropping Sam, it’s not right.” Steve said looking at me warily.

“It’s too late to turn back now.”

“Can I call you later? Tonight I mean?” Bucky asked his voice cracking slightly. 

“I would love that.”

*

I stopped counting days after that resigning myself to watching Bucky leave the house for their dates looking like a teenager on his first date with a boy he liked, coming home with a timid but blinding smile on his face, during the later months coming home in the morning looking disheveled and blissed out. I got to watch  and witness as Bucky and T’Challa slowly repaired their relationship and tried to make their fights less legendary. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/saphireandbrokenglass


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